


The End

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Out of Character Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: When Aragorn dies, Legolas is sure it is the end of everything. Only when Gimli drags him Valinor does he discover that perhaps his friend isn't gone after all. OOC Legolas.





	The End

The stone was no longer cold under his cheek, his own body having warmed it slightly over the hours. Legolas was only vaguely aware of voices around him. He didn’t care about them, because they weren’t the one he longed to hear. He’d do anything to hear Estel’s voice just one more time. Anything.  
A hand was shaking him, and Legolas looked up to see Gimli’s concerned face, his own tears still drying. “You should come away from there, laddie. Come on, let’s have a drink together in his memory.”  
Legolas shook his head mutely, laying his cheek back down on the stone sarcophagus that was such a good replica of his best friend. He tried not to remember Estel’s last moments. He had been the last to see him.  
Eldarion and Gimli had already said their goodbyes. The rest of his family had left for Valinor years ago, even Arwen. In the end, she was taken by sea longing like the others and unable to resist. Only Legolas remained for his friend.  
Estel had told him not to despair, not to cry for him, asking him to sail. Legolas almost laughed at the memory. What an impossible thing to ask. Not despair? His heart’s brother was gone, and Legolas would never see him again.  
Gimli sighed and put down a waterskin next to the prince’s head. “At least drink something. I’m going to get a work crew together. We have a boat to build.”  
“I’m not going. I’m not leaving him.”  
The dwarf scowled at him. “Yes, you are. You’ll die if you stay here.”  
Legolas knew that. His heart was broken. He would not survive long unless he went to Valinor, but he didn’t care. The Undying Lands were no paradise for him, not without Estel. He clutched tighter to the cold stone he was lying on, half next to, half on top of, pressing his face into Estel’s shoulder, but the stone offered him no comfort.  
It was over. This was the end. There was no point without Estel.  
Gimli left, for which Legolas was grateful. He didn’t know how much time passed. Some kinds of pain are timeless. He knew not whether he suffered for an hour or a month. All he knew was that he missed Estel so much that it hurt like a jagged shard of glass inside him.  
Legolas fought mightily against tears. Estel hadn’t wanted him to cry. It was his friend’s last request. Surely, he could honor it. He couldn’t lift the heavy shroud of despair that covered him. At least he could comply with part of Estel’s wishes. He would not cry, even though his heart was screaming for him to do so.  
At some point, Gimli came back. He shoved the waterskin to Legolas’ lips, trying to make him drink. Legolas eventually took a few sips to pacify him. The dwarf muttered something about speeding up construction and left.  
When he next came, he tried to make Legolas eat. Legolas wasn’t interested in eating, and Gimli had to settle for a few more sips of water. Why couldn’t the dwarf just leave him alone? He was broken, and there was no fixing him. How could Gimli not see that?  
The next time Gimli came, he tried to tug Legolas away from Estel. That got a reaction. Legolas clung to the stone, scrabbling for purchase. “No, Gimli, leave me alone! I won’t leave him!”  
“He’s not here anymore, Legolas. Aragorn is gone. You do no one any favors staying with his body. His spirit has departed. He wanted you to sail, remember.”  
Legolas did remember, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t crying. That was as much of Estel’s last wish as he could fulfill. The rest… “Go away, Gimli.”  
“No. The ship is ready. We are sailing to Valinor, whether you like it or not.”  
“NO!” Legolas was horrified when the dwarf started dragging him away. Since when was Gimli this much stronger than him? How long had he lain here without food or sleep? He was more weakened then he’d realized.  
When Legolas was pulled out of contact with the stone, he renewed his struggles, crying out for Estel. Gimli muscled him away, muttering under his breath about crazy elves, but Legolas could hear his voice breaking.  
“Please, Gimli, don’t! Let me go back to him!”  
“He’s not there, laddie. You know that.”  
“Don’t make me sail, then. Please, I’ll stay here. I’ll eat, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t make me sail.”  
Gimli paused, still keeping a tight grip on Legolas. “Why? Why would you rather stay here than go to your family?”  
“Because if I go to Valinor, I’ll never die!” Legolas wailed. “How can I live until world’s end without Estel? How can you ask me to?”  
“There is no sorrow in Valinor.”  
“What do you know of the Undying Lands, dwarf?” he spat. “It is kinder to leave me here and you know it. You were supposed to be my friend!”  
“I was Aragorn’s friend, too, and I promised him I would get you to Valinor before you faded from grief.”  
Oh Valar, that was bad. Gimli always kept his promises. Legolas made a wild break for the coffin. Had he thought he was in pain as he lay over Estel’s stone body? Being away from the last reminder of his friend nearly crippled him. The only thing stopping his legs buckling was the desperate need to get back to him.  
“No, Legolas!” Gimli grabbed him around the waist and started hauling him away, seemingly deaf to Legolas’ threats, arguments and pleas.  
As they got to the beach, the sea longing intensified. Part of him wanted more than anything to sail, to finally give in… but a bigger part shied away from the idea in horror. He couldn’t live without Estel. He didn’t want to.  
“Please, Gimli,” he begged feebly. Gimli ignored him.  
The voyage was a nightmare. After the sailors had to jump in and fish Legolas out of the water for the third time, thwarting once more his attempts to get back to Middle Earth, Gimli ordered him tied up. They managed to force water into him, but Legolas wouldn’t eat. The last meal he’d had was one he’d shared with Estel. He couldn’t eat; the memory of that last meal pierced him whenever he tried.  
He felt no relief as Valinor came into sight, only dread. Here started the beginning of his torment, a torment that would never end, not until the world was unmade.  
There was a crowd on the beach. Legolas knew his father would be waiting for him, but he couldn’t summon any form of excitement. There was no point in fighting anymore. He would never get back to Estel now. Gimli grimly dragged him down to the beach, ignoring the horrified gasps of some of the other elves at the rough treatment of one of their kin.  
Legolas kept his eyes on the ground, wishing more than anything that he’d faded before Gimli had gotten him here.  
Something warm hit him, staggering him back a step. A set of arms was clasped around him.  
“Legolas! Mellon nin, look at me.”  
Slowly, Legolas raised his eyes. “E-Estel?”  
“It is me, gwador.”  
Disbelief and hope warred within him. Could it be? “How?” Legolas asked simply.  
“I have elven blood, enough that the Valar saw fit to bring me here, considering that everyone I love is here.”  
Legolas felt his legs give out. Estel’s arms were still around him, and the two of them sank down to the ground. Legolas was shaking violently, and he took deep breaths, trying to control his eyes.  
“Legolas? What is it?”  
“You said – don’t – cry –” Legolas gasped, blinking furiously.  
“Oh mellon nin, I am sorry. I never should have asked that of you. You can cry all you need.”  
At Estel’s words, relief filled him as Legolas let go. The tears came thick and fast as he clung to Estel for all he was worth. He realized that Estel was crying too, and that Gimli had chivvied the crowd away, giving them some privacy.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Estel murmured, stroking his hair.  
“You – d-don’t need to – apologize – for d-dying.”  
“It hurt you.”  
That, Legolas couldn’t deny. He pressed his head into Estel’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His skin was soft, warm and alive. Legolas wept and clung to Estel as his grief was slowly drawn from his body. Estel’s hands rubbed his back as he shook with powerful sobs.  
“I missed you, gwador,” he murmured.  
“I – m-missed – you – m-more –” Legolas’s grip was starting to tear Estel’s tunic, but the human didn’t seem to care.  
“Not possible, but an argument we can have another time. When was the last time you ate?”  
Legolas didn’t answer, too busy trying to breathe and cry at the same time. Estel hushed him with soothing words and soft touches.  
“Come, mellon nin, you should eat something. I am here, and you are here. We should celebrate.”  
Legolas sniffed, trying to stop the tears, but his body wasn’t cooperating. Estel gave him a hand up, and he managed to stand for several seconds before his knees once more collapsed. Legolas groaned, closing his eyes.  
“Mellon nin, what is wrong?”  
“Just – dizzy.”  
“I’m going to kill Gimli,” Estel muttered. “Did he not feed you?”  
“Not – his – fault. He t-tried.”  
“I suppose he got you here, and that’s what matters most, but you need to eat.”  
The next thing he knew, Legolas was in Estel’s arms, being carried like an elfling. He struggled, protesting that he could walk himself, but when Estel put him down, he only managed a few shaky steps before the world tilted wildly and he found himself once more hanging limply in the human’s grip.  
There was a group of people waiting at a long table. Gimli was already enjoying an ale with Sam and Frodo. Legolas recognized Elrond, the twins, Arwen, and his Ada.  
“Ion nin.” Thranduil smiled widely and tried to pry him from Estel’s arms, but Legolas clung frantically to his friend’s neck.  
“Don’t touch me, I won’t leave him!”  
Thranduil stepped back in surprise. Gimli rolled his eyes.  
Estel sat them down on a bench, keeping one arm firmly around Legolas’ waist, and his Ada sat on his other side.  
“Legolas, ion nin, you look terrible. When was the last time you slept?”  
Legolas shrugged, because he truly wasn’t sure. He’d lost track of the days after Estel died. His Ada pulled him into a gentle hug, which Legolas returned with one arm, his other still clenched around Estel.  
The next thing he knew, Elrond was heaping a plate with food and handing it to him with a kindly smile. “How’s my most difficult patient? You are too thin, Legolas.”  
Legolas found, to his surprise, that he actually was hungry, which he hadn’t been since the day of Estel’s death. He took a large bite off a roll, which made everyone around him grin in relief.  
Before he knew it, the tears had stopped, and Legolas was smiling as he caught up with everyone, but mostly with Estel. The human was more interested in hearing how he had fared, but Legolas wasn’t keen to talk about it. Estel would no doubt get the sorry details out of Gimli sooner or later.  
Without needing to discuss it, Estel led Legolas to his own room, in a house very similar to the one he’d shared with his family in Imladris. The bed was wide enough for two, and Legolas collapsed into it, his legs still slightly shaky.  
Estel’s shoulder was there, and he gratefully burrowed into it, sniffling slightly, holding the human’s hand tightly in two of his own.  
“Sleep, mellon nin. You need it.”  
“I – I’m worried I’ll have nightmares. Or I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, and this is all some wonderful dream.”  
“It is no dream, I promise.” Estel stroked his hair back, using his fingers to undo a few tangles. “I will be here when you wake. And there are no nightmares in Valinor.”  
Legolas finally closed his eyes in exhaustion, wondering if the Valar could hear the words in his heart. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve their mercy in not separating him from Estel, but he was grateful, more grateful than he could say that this wasn’t the end. It was, in fact, only the beginning.  
Thank you, he murmured silently, to anyone who was listening. Thank you.


End file.
